


Black Snowflake

by Invasion



Series: Invasion's (old) Rainbow Six [3]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invasion/pseuds/Invasion
Summary: Former Military and current CIA agent Aila Forest (Yes, only one R) has just finished a case in Boston and is on a plane to a short vacation.





	1. BOS to LON.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on an airplane on my phone cus I was bored and knew I wanted a new character. This one will take longer to turn into being centralized on R6, though it will eventually. The flight, however, wasn't BOS to LON. BOS to MEM, actually. Never went over intnl. waters. Never have been.

Someone’s looking from the harbor at the airport. They’ll see the plane I’m on. They’ll have no idea about anyone in it. Who they are, why they’re there, or even where they’re going. 

They won’t know there’s a Harvard graduate student. Or a transgender woman. Or an Army vet. They won’t know there’s me. They wont know anything about the plane or it’s contents.

A few people watch from boats in the harbor and ocean we are now over, though not yet in international waters.

We wouldn’t be there for a while, but when we are, it’s time to sleep.

 

You wake up from your nap to the flight attendant announcing the plane was going for a landing. You check a flight tracker the airline provides for free on the otherwise very monetized WiFi. Sure enough, less than 30 minutes until landing. You pack the small amount of things you had gotten in your backpack. It’s standard issue for your division. A black Ogio with plenty of space, on which you installed GPS tracking, battery for your phone, and a few minimalistic stickers.

One came with your laptop, a gaming one by Razer. Now wasn’t the time for such observations, though.

You finish packing your noise canceling earbuds, book, and neck pillow. After some deliberation, you drunk a few gulps of water from the bottle you had, which filters the liquid as you drink it. It had been kept cold somehow, to your enjoyment.

After setting that back in the bottle holder, you put your tray table up and laid back in your chair until the flight landed.

Once it did, you walked off. There were people all around you speaking different languages. People call this place home. You call it a vacation, and a well-needed one at that. You had been in The Agency for four years, and military for a few before that, though the time blended so much it was hard to put a quantification on it.

“Welcome to London!” A sign sprawled after getting through customs with no issue. You shake your head and take a black cab to your hotel, a Sheraton. 

Cabbies in London are professionals. They have to pass an exam and know every road in the huge, dense urban area. Boston wasn’t like that, as you gathered from your week stay there finishing a case in Cambridge. Your best bet was an Uber if you couldn’t get around on your own, and drivers there aren’t known for safety or eloquence.

When the hotel came into view, you noticed the cab driver start to slow the car to a halt by the curb.

“Your stop, madam?” He phrases like a question he knew the answer to. (As he did.)

“Yes, thank you!” You reply. You had checked the rate to the hotel beforehand and had the money ready to go. You decided, though, to offer him a tip, as he was quiet and knowledgeable, of £5. He accepts it and you take your bags out of the trunk and walk off. He drives away and you walk towards the door. 

The doorman greets you with a similar attitude. You walk in and check into your room. It’s serene as always. Getting into a hotel room always is. New stuff to play around with. You flop on the large bed and flip through the TV channels until you find BBC news. After that gets you back into reality, you fall back for another nap.

When awoken, it’s to none but your dinner time alarm. Your reservations had been made before taking off at Logan.


	2. Not the first time.

Dinner had been good and the drinks afterwards were even better. You decided to walk to the hotel.

About half way back, you began to get that feeling. You knew it too well in your line of work. You felt as if you were being followed. You would look into glass storefronts and see nothing behind your reflection. Eventually, you found a bakery that was open and slipped inside. You play it out and manage to look through the window. No one was there.

“How may I help you, ma’am?” A chuff voice asks.

“I was wondering if I could use the bathroom, it’s late and my hotel’s a half mile walk.”

“Go ahead.” He replies and motions you to the back. He was cleaning off the countertop.

It was a regular restroom. Single toilet and sink, a trash can, and a sign on the wall advising of workers to by sanitary.

You slip your garments off and sit on the toilet. To be fair to the shop owner, you did actually use it, and needed to, but it could’ve waited the walk back.

After lifting your clothes back on and washing up, you leave the bakery. You felt bad for not being a patron, but it would mean he has to serve you food, which you’d throw away anyways. You instead just gave him 1 pound.

The hotel wasn’t in a good area. Not the best at least, so you did really have to worry about thieves, of which London had plenty.

The only thing you really had to lose, though, was some time and your phone. You research menus and only carry enough money to do what you want, some extra for a cab or tips, and your phone. It was a way to prevent getting all of your cards getting stolen, which you were paranoid about.

You were overall very paranoid, and even more surprised that you got into the CIA, but it was what it was.

You still had the feeling. Being watched, at least. You were so close to the hotel now. Two more blocks. You got nearer and nearer.

You were one alleyway from the door.

The doorman was gone. It was 9:00. It’s sensible. You pass by the alleyway with confidence, not even looking.

Then it all went black.

You fight it.

The light returns.

You are almost flailing your arms. You see a person.

You see two.

You get your bearings.

The first one falls to the ground after a swift kick. The second started to run. You pull him back and kick his nuts in until he’s sterile.

He gets up and you let him run and the other guy soon recovers. You tear apart the bag they put over your head and used it to tie him to a pipe along the wall. You then call the police. They soon arrive and take him in.

You walk the rest of the way into your hotel and into the elevator. A familiar face is there. 

He’s the first to throw a punch but you escape it and pin him to the elevator wall. The elevator stops on a floor. You look at the 7-segment display above the door. Wrong floor. You instinctively lean in and give him a long, passionate kiss through his ski mask.

You can hear the embarrassment of whoever was going to get on and don’t stop until the door is closed.

Once it stops on the right floor, you turn him around and put his hands behind his back, escorting him down the hall and to your room. You grab a belt and tie his arms up and call the non-emergency police number and informs them you have the second man. 

They were surprised at your story, but nevertheless take him into custody.

Not even an hour after the police leave, you fall asleep, barely shaken by what had happened. It wasn't the first time a bag was over your head and frankly you hoped it'd be the last as you tend to get panicky in those situations. Anything out of your comfort zone tends to do that to you. And though it's rare, you've even had seizures due to not having control over everything.

And it wasn't a control thing, either. You didn't need control per se, you just needed everything to be safe.


	3. Morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this is my attempt at writing something even remotely closer to slow burn. I'm doing this because one of my commissions got Kudos from someone that wrote a 11k word chapter and a 40k+ word ff with only two ships in it, at least only two tagged. Anyways, here goes nothing. (TBH I tried to do something like that on the above chapters but I was on my phone and didn't even have a character count.)

You wake up to very little these days. It seems almost as if your mind was trained to the alarm, and nothing but that could give you enough energy at once to actually wake up. So, in all valiant effort, you tried to trick yourself a little for the vacation; though in spite of it's shorter length. You had only set alarms for things you were doing during the day, and not even one to wake up. Of course, this might mess you up when you were back on the job, but you knew deep inside of you that it wouldn't really matter.

So, you let sunlight awake you through the trellis of curtains. And slowly, yet surely, you woke up. It felt weird. Like it wasn't all at once. You slowly gained consciousness as time forwarded past the early morning and by somewhere near 7:00, you had managed to fall out of your slumber and into reality; just staring at the popcorn ceiling, wondering what to do, though you quickly decide to grab breakfast from the buffet for some shitty waffles and both bacon that's somehow both burned and raw at the same time.

You get up out of the comfort of the hotel queen-sized bed and put on something more presentable than what you had already been wearing. You decided on some tight skinny jeans, tight enough to not warrant a belt, and a tucked-in green button-down. You then put in your glasses. " _I look like a lesbian._ " you think to yourself. You look at yourself in the mirror for a few more seconds before realizing that you'll see no one you know for the entire vacation, so it really doesn't matter what you look like.

You then have the debate with yourself over whether or whether not you should wear PJs, though your dignity quickly decided that you'd make a fool out of yourself if you did so, and by then you were not only dressed but at the door anyways. You swing your neck back towards the mirror and make sure your hair isn't having a bad day and then check to make sure your phone was in your pocket, as well as some cash and a credit card. You also brought a wallet, carrying nothing, with you, so in the case you get mugged, you just give them an empty wallet, if your lucky they won't check and will just run away. You undid the latch on the door and turned the rod-style door handle, pulling back with your arms to open it. You let out a sigh before holding it open for the rest of your body to walk through before letting go.

The door slowly makes it's way to the latching in the frame. Once it arrives, you tug on the handle a little to make sure it's locked and then rotate down the hallway. You walked over to the elevator, which you had remembered was all the way down the hall and left, halfway down that hall. Once your stepping stops, you turn the corner into the exclaving room where the elevator shafts are. You push the button to go down and hear the light noises of pulleys carrying the weight of the cab and whoever might be in it before the downward arrow light turns green on the middle elevator and you hear a grinding halt from one of the noises. The door slowly opens revealing a, luckily empty, carriage. You walk inside and press the button for the lobby, which illuminates with a fluorescent white light. You were on the eighth floor of the building so the ride down was quite a long one.

When you're nearing the fourth floor, it grinds to a halt yet again to let more people on. _Damnit._

You scoot into one of the corners, not noticing yet that you were in the corner with the selection panel. Social awkwardness instantly kicks in as a couple step into the cabin.

"What floor?" you ask, as if people go from floor to floor when going down.

"Lobby is fine, thanks." you hear from the woman. She's got slightly red hair, just as you, and is a little taller than you at, you suspect at least, 5'8" to your 5'6", and is wearing jeans just as you were (though more baggy) and a pure red shirt, which you took notice of. You stopped yourself from asking her why the shirt is that color as you could anticipate the response already. You shuffle yourself around and wait until the elevator reaches the lobby floor, as it does quickly. Once it finally stops, you move into the back corner of the cab to let them off first. They leave and you exit after them, though not following them as you almost instinctively did now when you profiled people.

No, you didn't follow, but rather instead you went to the hotel restaurant, which was serving breakfast until 10:30.

"Ello!" a cheerful English accent from the reception stand greets you with. She's tall and-. You stop yourself. You couldn't keep profiling people. It would just be something you have to live by for the next few days until your vacation ends.

"Hi. Table for one, please. " you respond after a moment of such deliberations. She taps a display hidden behind the stand a few times.

"And what room number?"

"826."

"Alright, follow me." she says, moving away from the counter and putting out a hand, gesturing you past the threshold. She leads you to a small table, suitable for only two people with food, four if it's empty, and sits you down. "Here's a menu, your wait will be here shortly." she adds. You had never heard them referred to as "wait", though it was more eloquent than "wait staff".

After a few minutes of looking over the menu, you decide that you could do with a nice buffet. You keep that on your mind as you wait for your waiter or waitress to arrive.

"Hello Miss.. Forest, what might you fancy drinking this morning?" a man asks you after walking to your table and while setting down a napkin, presumably for that drink.

"Just a water, please." you say as he looks you over. He quickly leaves and returns moments later with a clear glass with water and some ice.

"Are you ready to order or do you need a moment more?"

"I'm ready to order. May I have the full buffet?"

"Yes. Have as many plates as you'd like, go ahead." he says. You wait for him to leave while slowly downing the glass of water before standing up and walking over to the buffet. You find some of what you had been hoping for; shitty waffles and shittier bacon. You fill your plate with food and sit back down.

It doesn't take long to fill yourself up; only one more plate would end up being needed. When you're finally full, you flag down your waiter and tell him your done. He grabs your check and you put the tab on the room along with a $5 tip for him and you leave the restaurant.

You walk out past the threshold and through the door onto the streets of London.

It's raining. You stay under the canopy where you wouldn't have to worry about it, and open your phone to the maps application. You find the nearest subway station, put in your wireless earphones, and let the guidance lead you to the station under an umbrella the doorman leant you.

You finally get to the station and walk down the stairs inside, using the rung of the umbrella to hoist it into it's concealed state. You pay for entry and find the train to Westminster, where you'd do the most touristy thing possible (other than Abbey Road, of course), look at Big Ben in Elizabeth tower. You get out of the station and find your way into view of the tower, which doesn't take long.

 _Yep. That's it._ you think to yourself, looking over it. 

You walk back to the tube station and wait for the next car back to the stop near your hotel. You look around the room in boredom. There's a few people waiting with you. Then you notice someone who looks to be a fellow tourist-in-hiding. He was about your age, 5'10 and fit, wearing a green jacket and blue button-down shirt with blue denim jeans. As you examine him, he notices you with a kind glance. You take your eyes off of him to avoid what might become later a situation all too familiar with yourself. You dismiss your reminisce of remiss, but rather insist upon the clock, which reads that the train should be arriving any second now.

Sure enough, it does. You hope on, almost squeezing between people at the choke point of the doorways. You find the guy you had noticed earlier.

"Sorry for staring at you a minute ago.. My eyes get carried away when I'm bored." you say, looking at him. He returns the glance and puts his hand out.

"It's fine. To be honest you aren't leaving much to be desired as I look you over.." he replies in an English accent. You shake his hand, now blushing. "Name's Tom, by the way."

"Name's Aila. Nice to meet you."

"Aila.. Interesting name. What's the inspiration?"

"I'm not sure. My parents always mentioned that they liked the name Ally, but it was too common or something so they re-arranged it. Like I said, though, I'm not quite sure."

"My name's a bit less interesting, innit? Just Scott. Anyways, this is my stop coming up, so I've got a question.. Continue this conversation at dinner tonight?" he had a way with words that charmed you enough to agree.

"Sure. Where at?"

"The pub on Cambridge and Windthrop. Good food, better brew. Say... Eight?"

"A bit late, though I can't exactly tell you why that'd be a problem. I'm down. See you then. Cambridge and Windthrop, you said?"

"Yep. This is my stop. See you then!" he gets off. You finish the tube ride to your hotel and plomp yourself back on your bed, eager to get to your date with... Scott. Scott was his name. Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright; My thoughts. It starts off nice for being slow and near the end it gets faster.


End file.
